


Intoxication

by Singing_Violin



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:25:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singing_Violin/pseuds/Singing_Violin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully and Mulder investigate a case of murder by alcohol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intoxication

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The X-Files characters and universe are not mine.

**4pm**

Scully turned away from the road to look incredulously at the car's driver. She raised an eyebrow as she prepared to present her argument to another one of his crazy theories.

"You can't be serious, Mulder. Why can't you just believe that these people drank themselves to death? It happens all the time, at parties and bars and in people's own homes! Binge drinking is a serious problem in this country..."

Mulder cut her off. "Scully, nobody saw any of these people drinking. Not a one. Isn't that suspicious? One of them was a designated driver, and not a one of them had a history of alcoholism..."

"Isn't it more plausible that the bartenders who served them the drinks paid people off not to tell about it?" Scully frowned, thinking.

"Scully, why would they try to make us believe that they hadn't served these people any alcohol?" Mulder smiled slightly at her, while still conveying the attitude that this was a serious discussion. "Wouldn't it be more plausible to try to convince us that they'd served them some, and they'd misjudged the victim's tolerance? Or that the victims had not been served all that they had to drink?"

Scully sighed. "No, because then they'd still be liable. Most bars can't afford multi-million dollar lawsuits that might result from the realization that it was their fault."

"Scully, I don't know what to tell you. I believe them. I think something else killed those people."

"Please don't say you think aliens did it."

"Well, something did, and maybe you'll find out what. Or who. Anyways, we're here. Why don't you get to work on the autopsies and I'll go interrogate the bartender." He winked at her. "You can meet me at the bar after you're done. I'll buy you a drink."

"Okay, Mulder," she smiled, "but if I catch you hitting on the ladies I'm reporting you to Skin-man. We're on duty."

"Fair deal, Scully, as long as I don't catch you getting it on with the corpses." Mulder replied, returning her smile. He watched her get out of the car, then drove off.

**4 hours later**

Scully got out of the cab and entered the bar. The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol assaulted her nose, and she crinkled it a bit as she looked around for her partner. Sure enough, she found him at the bar, talking with a rather cute blonde bartender. Frowning, she cleared her throat as she approached him from behind.

"Oh hey, Scully," he said, turning around, and cutting her off before she could say something about catching him flirting, he said, "I'd like you to meet Sarah. She's been working here for two years, and she's paying her own way through graduate school in music." He winked at Sarah, and then turned back to the redhead, who seemed to be getting slightly upset. "Sorry, Sarah, gotta go talk to my friend in private...you know?" he said as he got up and moved his hand to the small of Scully's back to guide her to a nearby booth.

"Mulder!" she burst out as they slipped into the padded seats.

"Scully, don't worry, she doesn't hold a candle to you."

"Mulder, I..." Scully stammered, trying not to crack a smile, or be too mortified at his recognition of her jealousy. After all, he could flirt with whomever he liked; she had no business stopping him, except that they were on duty. But she knew he knew that wasn't her reason for being rattled by his behavior with the young blonde.

Before she could embarrass herself too much, he decided he should start telling her what he'd found out. "Scully, I talked to these people, and I really do think they're telling the truth. There was no documented time loss in any of the three occasions, but the presence of the victims isn't confirmed for the whole time between their arrival here and their deaths either."

She interrupted him, shaking her head. "Mulder, these people died of alcohol poisoning. I did the autopsies, and all three victims showed extremely high blood alcohol levels; one was hemorrhaging from the stomach. The male, Thomas Leech, and one of the females, Heather Jones, died of asphyxiation as a result of choking on their own vomit. The other woman, Catherine Browning, sustained notable brain damage. The report says she was in a coma for two days before they took her off of life support."

Mulder wasn't listening to her anymore. His attention was focused upon a rather raucous bunch of young men who appeared to be engaged in some sort of drinking contest. "Scully, look at that," he said quietly, gesturing towards the party.

"Looks like we've found what killed those people, Mulder. Let's arrest them and go home," she said wearily, staring at the disruptive bunch.

Mulder got up and put a hand on her shoulder. "Not so fast, Scully. If the victims had participated in these contests, wouldn't we have known about it? Let's at least talk to those guys before we assume we know what happened."

"Okay, Mulder," Scully conceded as she got up and followed him towards the mass of people.

The crowd was shouting as two young men downed drink after drink. A blonde girl, who appeared to be in her mid twenties, sat beside one of the men. She appeared to be his girlfriend, and was leaning heavily on him. Eventually, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. Nobody noticed her slight wobble and the fact that her face was starting to turn a bit green. Both agents were involved in watching the contest, wondering whether they should break up the revelry in order to interrogate the two men involved, and possibly save one or two lives in the process.

Scully finally decided that this was what had to be done. She pushed her way through cheering people, and made it to the contest table just as one of the men fell over backwards, apparently conceding defeat. The red-haired agent watched the loser's friends gather him up and whisk him away. She wanted to check him out, but they were too quick, plus Mulder seemed to have gotten the same idea and was following them out.

Trusting her partner's instincts, Scully remained behind and began attempting to talk to the remaining competitor, who not only seemed not to be inebriated at all, but was a notably small man. She estimated his weight to be about a hundred and ten pounds. Righting the knocked-over bar stool, she sat herself down opposite him.

He sneered at her. "You want to challenge me? Let me just tell you right now, you ain't gonna be able to outdrink Johnny."

"No, sir." She sighed. "I'm an agent with the FBI. I want to know if you've been forcing people to drink beyond their capacity. Three people, two women and a man, have died here of alcohol poisoning in the last week. Are you responsible?"

"No, ma'am. You can check with that doll of a bartender over there, if you really care," he said, pointing over at Sarah. "She keeps track of everyone who challenges me. I think she has a little crush on me, and she's proud of me whenever I come out on top. Which is just about always." He gave Scully a patronizing smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to take on the next guy that wants to see if he can drink me to the ground. If I win again, I get to take her home with me; she promised me last night."

"Sir, should you really be engaging in another drinking contest? In drinking so much so quickly, you risk..."

"Ma'am, this ain't a convent, and I ain't Mormon. I can do whatever the hell I please."

"But sir, three people have died here; you could be next, if you don't take it easy."

"I'm not gonna die. Heck, I ain't even gonna drink myself sick. I can drink more than this entire bar full of people, and I intend on proving it. You can just go over there and drink your soda, and leave me alone."

Scully sighed, realizing she wasn't going to convince him of anything. She could only hope that he was accurately predicting his own safety. However, before she could get up to leave, he put his hand on hers across the table, and stated firmly, "I will win. You can be sure of it." His confident attitude disturbed her, and she made a mental note to point this out to Mulder when he returned.

Rising, Scully sighed again, wondering when Mulder was going to get back. She then walked over to talk to Sarah.

"Oh hey, it's you again. Fox told you who I was but he never introduced you to me," she stated, eyeing Scully suspiciously.

Scully winced at the use of Mulder's first name, addressing the bartender carefully, "That guy over there," indicating with a nod of her head towards the contest, "says you keep track of his challengers. I was wondering if I may see the list?"

Sarah smiled. "Sure, ma'am. Johnny's very proud of his winning streak." She walked away and came back with a spiral-bound notebook turned to a page with a scrawled chart. "What's your name? And how do you know Fox?"

"I'm Agent Scully, Sarah. Agent Mulder is my partner," Scully said, leafing through the book. David Henderson, Matthew Richter, Henry Browning...Scully wondered briefly whether Henry could be related to the victim Catherine of the same last name. It was worth checking out, however, true to Johnny's indication, none of the names in the book were exact matches for any of the victims.

She thanked Sarah and got up, wondering where Mulder had gone. At that moment he entered the bar, and approached his partner. "He's fine, Scully. He's even sobered up a bit after puking twice in the garbage dump in the alleyway outside," Mulder said, screwing his face up with disgust. "You find anything out?"

"No, Mulder," Scully yawned, suddenly extremely exhausted. "Let's go home."

"Okay, Scully. We can check this out again tomorrow if we don't get any more leads," he said quietly, as he guided her to the car.

She tripped on the stairs on the way out, and Mulder automatically reached out to prevent her from falling. "Whoa there, Scully, you okay?"

"Sure, Mulder," she said, grinning widely. "Thanks."

She hadn't said she was fine. She had smiled for no good reason. Fox Mulder was suddenly worried, and as she uttered that last word, he caught a slight stench of alcohol on her breath.

"Scully, have you been drinking?" he asked, slightly angry.

She looked puzzled, "No, Mulder...I don't think I had anything to drink..."

"What about soda? Did you drink anything Scully? I could swear I smelled alcohol on your breath, maybe someone spiked it..."

"No, Mulder, I didn't...let's go home, okay?"

Mulder shook off his disbelief, knowing Scully wouldn't lie to him, and helped her into the car.

**Ten minutes later**

As they arrived at the hotel, Mulder noticed that Scully had fallen asleep beside him. Not an odd occurrence, it still worried him, although he smiled to watch her looking so peaceful, not thinking about what argument to assault him with next. Getting out of the car and going around to her side, he opened the door, tapping her on the shoulder to wake her up.

Groggily, she stirred. "Mulder? Where are we?" she mumbled.

"At the hotel, Scully," he said worriedly. "Come, let's go inside. You look tired."

"I'm not tired anymore, Muller," she slurred. "Why don't you come to my room? We could talk...we never talk."

He would have worried about his partner being drugged, except that he detected surely this time the unmistakable stench of alcohol on her breath as she spoke.

Now he knew she was drunk, and he was angry at her for lying to him, and for drinking on the job. He was also worried, knowing that Scully almost never drank. "C'mon, Scully, let's go," he said, and dragged her out of the car, wondering who had persuaded her to drink, and how she could have gotten smashed so quickly while he was gone.

By this time, she was wobbly on her feet and she stared up at him with doe eyes as he put his arm around her to steady her. She giggled, and said, "Kiss me, Mulder."

Her partner drew in a sharp breath and said, a little too coldly, "I don't think so, Scully. You're drunk."

She shook her head, "No, Muller...not drunk. I din't drink anything."

Again he frowned, as they approached the door to her room. He had to half-carry her inside, as she was reluctant and possibly unable to walk at the moment.

He sat her down on the couch and went to the bathroom to draw her a glass of water. He was unprepared for what he encountered when he returned.

Dana Scully was crying. Her knees were gathered up to her chest, and big, fat tears ran down her cheeks as she sniffled and repeated, "It's not fair."

Mulder set down the water and moved to her side, kneeling before her. "Scully?" he questioned, as he put his hand on her thigh, trying to decide how to deal with this unexpected turn of moods.

"I work so hard, every day, and I come home every night to an empty apartment. I can't even keep a steady relationship; I haven't had sex since Jack. And I can't tell you I love you."

Mulder gulped at her candid remarks. However, he didn't have to continue reminding himself she was drunk for too long, as suddenly her eyes grew wide and her face turned green.

He was able to grab a nearby wastebasket just in time to position it strategically under her as she began to retch.

"Oh god, Scully," Mulder whispered, as she continued to vomit. He stroked her head with his free hand while continuing to hold the trash bucket beneath her. When bright red flecks began to punctuate the rancid liquid, he knew immediately that something was dreadfully wrong.

When she was done, he drew out his cellphone and called 911. Then, never taking his eyes off of her or her reflection in the mirror, he went into the bathroom and wet a washcloth, returning to sit beside her on the couch and wipe her face and mouth.

"Thanks, Muller," she said lovingly, and then she passed out.

"Shit," the agent muttered, as he gathered his unconscious partner into his arms, his mind reeling, trying to figure out what had happened.

**24 hours later**

Scully sat up in the hospital bed, impatiently awaiting her impending discharge, and continuing to debate her partner's ridiculous theories.

"You can't be serious, Mulder. Channeling alcohol?"

"Remember Lucy Householder, Scully? I think this is similar."

"Mulder, isn't it more probable that I had something to drink and just don't remember it? Heavy drinking has been shown to impair memory. From what I hear, I was pretty wasted..."

"Scully, you told me you hadn't had anything to drink. I don't believe you'd lie to me, and besides, why would you have started drinking last night?"

"I don't know, Mulder. Maybe I was feeling frustrated, lonely, defiant, jealous..." Her voice was tinged with a far away longing as it trailed off.

Mulder raised an eyebrow, deciding to ignore her assessment, rather than aim at too easy a target. "Well, we'll never know. Johnny Jones was found shot in an alleyway near the bar, not six hours after we left. It is believed that one of his challengers was angry, and decided to exact revenge. The local police are handling the case."

Scully drew in a sharp breath. "Well, if he was responsible, however he did it, I guess he can't kill any more people. Still, three lives..."

"Four, Scully. Five if you count him," he stated, shaking his head.

"The man we saw leaving?" she asked, suddenly wary.

"No, his girlfriend. Remeber that girl who was sitting next to him when we came in? She never came out of the bathroom...some poor patron found her body on the floor of one of the stalls two hours later."

Suddenly, Scully's eyes were wet. "Oh god, Mulder..." she whispered.

"Scully? Are you okay?" Mulder asked, suddenly concerned again, wondering whether the effects of the alcohol were returning.

"Yeah. It's just...when I was in high school, a guy I was sort of dating died of alcohol poisoning at a party."

"Oh my god...I didn't know. I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell me this before? I could have taken you off the case."

"Mulder, I...I didn't want you to think you had to protect me. It was a long time ago. There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Scully? Maybe we can...I mean, after they let you out...go somewhere. My place, if you like. And talk. You said yourself that we never talk."

The red-haired woman stared at him suspiciously for a moment. "No Mulder, we don't. But if you turn out to have a tail..."

Mulder chuckled, remembering Eddie van Blundht. "I promise, Scully, it's me this time. And we'll lay off the wine, okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds good..."

"Anyways," he stated, remembering something, "I meant to ask, how are you feeling?"

Scully smiled. "I'm fine, Mulder," she said. And this time, she meant it.


End file.
